


Exhale

by MagpieMinx (CardinalFox)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Artistic License, Bisexual Hux, Bisexual Kylo, Cats, Cheesy Romantic Gestures, Coffeeshop AU, Ex-Kylux, Extensive Scarring, F/M, Hux has PTSD, Hux is briefly depressed, Implied past torture, Mental Illness, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Renamed Hux, Retired Army Snipers Hux and Kylo, Slow Burn, Year-Long Duration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-03 10:37:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13339476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CardinalFox/pseuds/MagpieMinx
Summary: You live a relatively quiet life with your cat, running your little café, and one morning you find something unusual: someone waiting outside for you to unlock the door.





	1. Colors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You meet the man waiting outside your café on a cold morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can now read while listening to an ambiance I made to accompany this story![ Find it here!](http://cafe.ambient-mixer.com/exhale-shop-atmosphere)

You’re surprised to see someone waiting outside your little café on a Saturday morning when you go to unlock the door a minute or so after eight o’clock.  The man is tall and well dressed, his double-breasted wool coat buttoned up to the collar, a scarf looped around his neck that contrasts with his dark red hair.  He’s wearing gloves too, although it’s chilly out and you almost wish you were wearing a pair yourself as you let him in.

“I’ll be with you in a minute, I just need to make sure the door is unlocked,” you tell him with a smile.  He only grunts in response as he sidles past, careful not to brush against you as he goes in.  His glare doesn’t soften either, and you’re too busy trying not to stare at the pale, snarled patch of scar tissue on the left side of his forehead to wonder why he seems so grumpy.  You chalk it up to a lack of caffeine as you tuck your keyring in your pocket and cross the floor with hurried steps.

“What can I get you this morning?” you ask as you round the end of the counter and step behind the register.

“Grande flat white,” he responds tersely, flicking his card out between his index and middle fingers.  You take the card from him absently as you ring him up on the register, surprised to hear him speak in a crisp, British accent.

“I don’t remember seeing you before,” you say conversationally, “Are you new in town?  Or just visiting?”  You see him stiffen, out of focus behind the register as you swipe his card.  When you look up at him to hand his card back, he’s giving you a wary stare that’s more hostile than you expected.  Whatever the man’s problem is, it’s not just because he hasn’t had his coffee yet.  

“New,” he mutters, and then abruptly turns away from the register.

“Receipt?” you ask hurriedly, and receive no response as he takes a paper and sits in the overstuffed leather chair closest to the counter and furthest from the door.  He folds the paper over itself so he can hold it in one hand, peruses the stories on the page.  You sigh and get to work making his drink, pulling his ristretto shots and steaming the milk, pouring it and greeting the regulars that have started wandering in.  You snap the top onto the man’s cup, then stand on tip-toe and lean over the side of the counter.

“Sir, your drink,” you say, extending the hot cup, and he reaches out to take it from you.

“Thank you,” he says brusquely, and you leave him to sip his drink in peace while you handle your regular customers.  They all call you by name, make jokes and comment on the cold, ask where Mer is.  You laugh and tell them that your cat has decided to sleep late upstairs in your apartment for now.  They express disappointment at not seeing her before some of them settle in to the available chairs and tables and some of them leave.

It’s not until nearly ten-thirty in the morning that you see Mer, and it’s the last place you expected her to be.  She’s stretched out, very contentedly, on the lap of the irritable man who was waiting outside the door this morning.  Although you have six drinks lined up on the bar, you take a second to lean over the counter.

“Hey, I’m sorry-” you start to say, and the man twists sharply from the waist up, one still-gloved hand suddenly resting protectively on Mer’s white flank, the other hovering in front of his middle, his paper hitting the floor with a soft slap.  He glares up at you, full pink lips set in a firm line, and you flinch away from him.

“What is it?” he bites out, and for a second you’re not sure what to say.  Mer hasn’t even twitched on his lap, creamy paws still completely relaxed, like she’s been there for a while and feels perfectly safe.  You reconsider what you were going to say, but then decide to say it anyway since the man is new and doesn’t know.

“If Mer’s bothering you, don’t worry about pushing her off,” you tell him, “She’ll just go find somewhere else to sleep.”

“Mer,” he repeats, looking at you critically through narrowed, decidedly blue eyes. There's a hint of creasing at the corners, suggesting that he might be a little older than you first thought. 

“Short for Meringue,” you explain, “Look, I’ve got to get back to-”

“She’s not bothering me,” he says, and while the words are clipped, they’re not as harsh as he was before.  He scoops up his paper with one hand, strokes Mer with the other, and you can’t help a smile before you go back to making drinks.  It’s obvious that the man has a soft spot for your cat, probably for cats in general, or maybe all pets.  Either way, so long as he and Mer are getting along okay, you don’t think you have anything to worry about.

The busy morning passes into an even busier afternoon and by the time things begin to slow down, it’s nearly four.  You take advantage of a lull in the stream of customers to wipe down the counters behind the bar and wash up.  You spare a glance to confirm that Mer is still with the man, then go back to what you were doing.  He must be out of coffee by now, but he hasn’t gotten up to get a refill, or even to go to the bathroom probably.  You set your equipment out to dry, then come over to the counter and click your tongue twice in rapid succession.  

The man looks up sharply from the little notebook he’s writing in with a pen to stare at you, and Mer lifts her head and yawns.  She uncurls, stretches leisurely, then slinks under the man’s elbow to jump from the arm of his chair up to the counter.  You pet her and she purrs, butts her head against your arm.

“I noticed you haven’t gotten up since you sat down,” you tell him, “I thought I’d give you a chance to visit the restroom without Mer trapping you in your seat.”  He’s looking at you suspiciously, like he doesn’t believe you, although you don’t know why he wouldn’t.  After two shots of espresso and almost seven hours, he must desperately need the bathroom.

“That won’t be necessary,” he responds as he looks away, flipping his notebook closed and tucking it, and his pen, away in an inner pocket of his coat, “I’ve been here too long already.”

“Oh,” you say, swallowing your offer of another drink on the house, “Well, have a nice evening then.”  He doesn’t respond, only stands and sets the paper he was reading this morning on the counter next to Mer’s singular back paw.  She mews at him, and he pauses to scratch behind her ears before making his way out of your little café.

You watch Mer while she stares after the man, settling onto her haunches, one ear swiveling back towards you as you sigh.  “So I guess you like him a lot, huh?”

~

For about two months, the man only comes in on Saturday mornings, but then he starts staying longer.  He starts coming in during weekday mornings too, always sitting in the chair closest to the counter.  For the most part, his order never varies, so sometimes you bring it with you to the door when you come to unlock it, Mer meowing at him from behind you.  He always looks surprised when you do, though he’s never really any less grumpy and doesn’t say much besides, “thank you”.  Given that state of affairs, you decide not to ask what his connection to the former mayor is after seeing the name on his card: Julian A. Hux.

You don’t really know what to make of him.  You know he dyes his hair because the shade lightens over time and then one day it’ll be dark again.  He never takes off his gloves, scarf, or coat, even when he’s been in the café for several hours.  He loves Mer, even if he ends up with long, white cat hairs all over his dark clothing.  You’ve offered him your lint roller a few times, but he just grunted and shook his head.  He never meets anyone in the shop, you’re the only person he speaks to, and maybe that’s why what happens comes as such a surprise.

There’s a franchised coffee place down the road that gets more customers than your little place ever will, but sometimes people wander past it and end up in your café.  Most of the time, these customers are nice enough, if a little impatient judging by the drumming fingers and tapping toes, the stares from the corners of their eyes.  You take it in stride as best you can, offering a smile when you put their drinks on the bar, hoping that they’ll just take it and leave.

This woman takes her drink, takes a sip, and then spits her mouthful of latte out onto the bar and slams the cup down on top of it.  The paper cup skids when it comes down at an angle, and the rest of the coffee spills across the bar as the lid comes off.  You almost drop the drink you’re in the process of making trying to put it down fast enough to throw a towel on the growing mess.

“You call this coffee?” the woman barks at you, stepping up to the bar and leaning over it to point her finger in your face.  You flinch away from her finger, eyes wide as your towel drops to the floor, steamed milk and espresso starting to drip over both edges of the bar.  The woman’s face gets red while you try to come up with a response, “This is  _ shit _ !”

“I can remake it for-” you start to say, but she interrupts you, leaning far enough forward that the coffee starts to get on her coat.

“No!  I don’t want it remade, I want a refund!” she snarls, “ _ You _ don’t know how to make coffee!”

It’s not an argument worth having, so you try to appease her by saying, “I can see that you’re unhappy and I can certainly refund you the price of your drink as soon as I-”

“I want my refund  _ now _ !” the woman bellows, slamming her fist down on the coffee-covered bar, splattering herself and you with it.  You flinch when she does and it takes you a second to recover enough to respond to her.

“Okay, okay, I can give you a refund if we just step back over to the register-” you’re saying, when someone else interrupts you.

“Leave.”  Julian’s voice is low and cold and startling as he stands halfway between his chair and the bar, back straight and shoulders squared.  His chin is lifted, his eyes hard as he glares down at the woman.  You’re not sure when he got up, but Mer is on the seat of his chair, frozen in a crouch with her fur puffed out.

“And just who do you think you are?” the woman demands loudly, trying to reassert her dominance through sheer volume.

“Someone bothered by your…” Julian pauses significantly, looking down at the woman, lip curled in disgust, “ _ Idiotic _ behavior.”

“It’s none of your business,” she snaps, her finger springing out as she points at Julian who observes this with something too akin to fascination to be healthy.

“You’re disturbing everyone here,” Julian answers, his voice dropping into a growl, gesturing to the people staring, “Including me, which makes it my business.”

“Ma’am?” you say, trying to break the tension and trying not to be too affected when both Julian and the woman turn to look at you, “I can process your return at the register.”  Julian’s expression goes from angry to somewhat puzzled, his brows drawing together a little.  The woman seems to be weighing her options, glancing between you and Julian.  He spares a second to glare at her again, and she seems to come to some kind of decision.

“Don’t bother,” she says, turning on her heel toward the door, “But I won’t be back again!”

You sigh, feel yourself sag as you close your eyes with relief.  When you open them again, you’re faced with the mess she’s made of your bar that needs to be cleaned up before anything else.  There’s also a half made drink on your side of the bar, two expired shots on the machine.  You scoop up the cup and lid, toss them into the trash behind the bar, then you bend to pick up the towel that fell to the floor earlier, grimacing as you turn to fling it into the sink.

“Sorry, do you mind waiting a minute?” you ask the two customers waiting for their drinks and the one waiting at the register.  They all answer in the negative, so you go to the back room and come back with the “wet floor” sign and a couple of towels.  You set up the sign and drop one towel into the middle of the mess on the bar to soak it up.

“Can I help?” Julian asks carefully, suddenly there at your elbow.  For a moment, you’re startled, but then you give him a tired smile.

“I’m not really supposed to let you help,” you tell him, “And I don’t want your gloves to get all sticky, but thank you.”  He stands there for a moment as you wipe down the edge of the bar.  You freeze when two hands, one strangely dark and shiny and the other shockingly devoid of any pigmentation at all, reach past you and flip the other towel over so that it can soak up more of the coffee that threatens to spill over the newly wiped edge.  You recognize the cuffs of Julian’s shirt and coat, but all you can think of is the rough patch on his forehead.

You work with him in silence, trying not to stare as you think about how it suddenly makes sense why he never takes his gloves off.  You wonder if maybe that’s the reason why he never takes his coat or his scarf off either, if he’s trying to hide more scarring.  You feel an almost overwhelming amount of pity for him, but you suspect that he wouldn’t appreciate that, to put it mildly.

“I’ll have to get the rest from the other side,” you say once the customer side of the bar is clean enough to last for a few minutes, looking up at him with as normal a smile as you can manage.  It must be more than convincing enough, because Julian nods, and then heads for the bathroom to wash his hands.

You take the two coffee-soaked towels, sling them in the sink with the other, then get a fresh one and quickly wipe up the rest of the bar.  You’re rushing to catch up, but that doesn’t stop you from seeing Julian come back from the bathroom with his gloves on.  He collects his notebook and pen from Mer, who’s been sitting on them, and she mews plaintively at him.  He gives her a treat from his pocket and strokes her fur while she eats it, then leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to a new story! I've been working on this concept off and on over the past year. It's completed except for some editing, but I thought I would share. You may or may not recognize Julian from Victory, although he's not exactly the same Julian, obviously! I'll be updating roughly once a week and hope that you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> I highly recommend finding a piano playlist to listen to while reading this, partly because that's what I listened to while writing this. I think it supports the soft mood of the story, but it's not required obviously.
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated, and you can find me on tumblr at magpieminx!


	2. Mer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get to know Julian a little bit better.

Julian’s been absorbed in writing in his little notebook since he finished today’s paper.  It’s a new notebook, not worn at the corners like the other one.  Mer is curled on his lap, one paw dangling over his thigh.  If you’re honest with yourself, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Julian this relaxed.  He’s focused, but not tense, thoughtful rather than guarded.

He also hasn’t, somehow, realized that the café is nearly deserted and the last of your evening regulars is packing up her computer.  The laptop has actually already disappeared into her messenger bag, and she’s winding the charger cord around prongs on the adapter.  She gives you a little wave after putting it in her bag too, then drops her coffee cup in the trash on her way out.  Julian still doesn’t look up from his notebook, scribbling something into it.

He doesn’t look up, in fact, until you bring out the mop and bucket, leaving it on the tile and crossing the café to turn off the “open” sign in the window by your door.  You go back to the mop, see Julian’s eyes darting around, taking in the otherwise empty café, adding up his observations.  He puts his notebook and pen away in the pockets of his coat while you dip the mop into the bucket.

“I apologize,” he says stiffly, picking up Mer as he stands up, “I didn’t realize that it had gotten so late.”

“Julian,” you say, trying to ignore how inappropriate it feels to use his name when you’ve only read it off his card, never had him tell you what it is, “It’s okay.  You can stay until I’m done.”

He freezes in the process of turning to put Mer down on the chair, looking at you almost suspiciously, searching your face as you lean on your mop.  He studies you for what seems like an hour, before saying very carefully, “I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“You’re not,” you tell him, smiling, “It can get lonely sometimes when I’m cleaning all by myself.”

He hesitates for a moment, then slowly lowers himself back into his chair, letting Mer down into his lap without commenting on your use of his name.  He strokes Mer while she sniffs at his glove, a soft smile pulling at the corners of his mouth when she starts licking the leather.  

You forget that you’re supposed to be mopping.

You’ve always known, in an abstract sort of way, that Julian is good looking.  His eyebrows are thick, his lips full, his jaw strong.  His eyes are clear and starlight-blue, his skin pale beneath his dyed red hair.  He may be scarred, but he is a handsome man, and even more so when he smiles like this.

You remember yourself and look away, not wanting him to see you staring and misinterpret it.  You push the mop bucket to the front of the shop and start in one corner, occasionally peeking at Julian and Mer when you can.  He seems nearly as absorbed with Mer now as he did with his notebook earlier, still strangely relaxed.  You wonder what it is that’s drained some of the tension out of him today because you know it’s not a consequence of coming here to the café.  Yesterday, he was tense and jumpy, so much so that he nearly knocked his drink out of your hand when you brought it to him.  Today, he’s been almost like a completely different person.

You try to remember another time when he wasn’t wound so tightly, but the only thing you can remember is when he asked if he could bring treats to feed Mer.  You’d been surprised that he asked, and you noticed the way he brightened a little when you said it was fine so long as he didn’t overfeed her.  It was subtle then, just a softening of the serious set to his mouth, his brow unknitting a little.

You sweep the mop over a patch of floor as you try to compare his face then to his face now in your head, find that it’s not much of a comparison.  His face now, as he indulges Mer with stroking and a treat, is gentle and open,  _ happy _ even.  He’s never given you the impression of being a man who has many pleasures in life, despite how well he dresses.

If Mer makes him happy, you think, then he can stay every night while you close.

~   


“How did that happen?” you hear Julian ask quietly one night as you’re mopping up, and you look up at him curiously to find that he’s not looking at you.  He’s looking down at Mer, sitting loosely in his lap and purring as he strokes her ears with one hand, delicately tracing the back leg that terminates abruptly where a paw should be with the index finger on his other hand.

“I don’t know,” you answer, unsure of whether he even realizes that he spoke at all.  Seeing the way his eyes snap up to meet yours suggests that he didn’t, but he’s frowning now, staring at you, waiting for you to elaborate.

“I adopted Mer a few years ago,” you tell him, putting your mopping on hold for a moment, “She was missing a paw then.  The shelter told me that the reason she was brought in originally was because of that paw.  They said it was pretty mangled, so the vet decided to amputate.”

“That’s terrible,” he responds, his eyes dropping back to Mer who’s purring loud enough for you to hear from where you stand as he lets her rub her face against his knuckles.  “What a brave kitty you are.”

“She doesn’t seem to know that she’s any different,” you answer with a little laugh, “She can reach the counters just fine, climb all over you if she wants.”

“Capable girl,” he comments, scratching Mer under the chin, chuckling himself.  You can’t stop yourself from smiling because it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him laugh.  It’s a nice laugh, if short-lived, and you decide to push the envelope a little.

“I have a question for you,” you say as mildly as you can, and though his face is wary when he glances back up at you, it’s not hostile.  “I’ve noticed that you’ve got some pretty capable looking teeth.”

The smile he throws you now shows off the gleaming white teeth in question, the canines a little longer and pointier than the others.  You don’t know what he thought you were going to ask, maybe about his burn scars, but this was certainly not it.  Even better, it looks like a question he’s more than comfortable answering, and you’re feeling triumphant until he tartly tells you, “That wasn’t a question.”

“No, I guess it wasn’t,” you agree, secretly thrilled that you’ve hit on the one thing that maybe he doesn’t feel uncomfortable talking about, “So did you get them done?  Or did your genetics just really like you a lot?”

He laughs again before answering, this one fuller and louder than the previous one, “No, I just won the genetic lottery for meat eating.”  

“Ooh, so you’re a carnivore,” you tease him, and he chuckles again and shakes his head.

That ends that conversation, but it’s still the most you’ve ever gotten out of him.  The progress you’ve made is immensely satisfying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as long a chapter as the first, but the next one will be a bit longer. Plus, we finally get to meet Kylo!
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always super appreciated! Especially comments, I love to hear about what my readers are most enjoying. You can also still find me at magpieminx on tumblr.


	3. Kylo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You meet Kylo, Julian's best friend, former spotter, and ex-boyfriend.

This morning when you go to unlock the door, there’s a man standing behind Julian.  He’s maybe a couple of inches taller than Julian is and quite a bit broader, with luxuriously messy black hair, an intense stare, and a scar running from between his eyes down over his cheek and neck that disappears beneath the collar of his leather jacket.  Julian grunts when you say “good morning” as he ducks past you and into the shop, which is less greeting than he’s given you in several weeks.  He’s… not frowning, exactly.  If anything, he looked exasperated when he stepped in, his eyes fixed higher than normal though he heads unerringly for the cup waiting for him on the counter.

The taller man with the black hair doesn’t come in right away, only continues watching you intently, and you pull your key from the lock and try to decide whether or not to say anything to him.  His eyes are a warm, dark brown like the espresso you brew, and he looks thoughtful as he regards you and adjusts his leather jacket.  There’s another heartbeat where it’s just awkward, and then he breaks into a grin and says, “So you  _ are _ friends with Captain Stick-Up-The-Ass.”

“Excuse me?” you ask, turning your head to regard the man from the corner of your eye.  The only person he could be referring to is Julian, but even though you’re not sure if that’s true, you still feel protective.

“ _ Kylo _ ,” Julian says, his voice so dry it scrapes across the empty café, Mer already twining around his ankles and mewling for attention, “Leave the poor woman alone.”

“Don’t I get to meet your friend, Red?” Kylo responds, stepping past you into the café while you gape at his back, shocked to find out that Julian even  _ has _ a friend besides you, if that’s even what you are to him, “She’s getting you out and about every day.  I think it’s way past time I met her.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you’d be bringing a… friend,” you say, an awkward pause between the rest of the sentence and the last word because Kylo doesn’t quite feel like Julian’s friend.  There’s something else between them, something easy that fits with Kylo’s friendly antagonism and Julian’s irritated resignation, something somewhere between brotherhood and lovers.  

“There’s the cat,” Kylo says with no small amount of amusement, hooking his thumbs in the pockets of his dark jeans as he watches Julian cradle Mer against his chest, his cup still in one hand.  Julian glares at Kylo for a moment, and then proceeds to sit in his customary chair, letting Mer down onto his lap as Kylo continues with, “There’s always a cat.”

Julian doesn’t deign to respond to this comment, and Kylo only chuckles.  You leave the door and cross the floor to step behind the counter, wait for Kylo to decide whether he wants to order something or not.  He just stands there for at least a minute, watching Julian with a deeply fond smile that carries a heavy hint of relief or encouragement or both.  This further confirms that their relationship, whatever it is, runs deep and probably has for some time.  Your eyes shift from Kylo to Julian who, you’d guess, is trying to steadfastly ignore Kylo, but who has run up against the very real distraction of having Mer climbing over his shoulder to perch on the back of his chair.

Julian’s lips move, apparently speaking to Mer, likely something along the lines of “what are you up to”, as she settles on the chair’s back.  She’s sniffing Julian’s hair, and then she starts rubbing her face against his head.  Julian’s expression goes from gentle curiosity to indignation, particularly when she pauses to give the back of his head a few licks.  Kylo laughs and you can’t help a snort of your own.  Julian runs a gloved hand along his hair, forcing Mer to stop, but he’s no sooner moved his hand than she’s started up again.

“The cat knows you didn’t shower this morning,” Kylo says, still grinning broadly, and you can’t help raising an eyebrow at this comment.

“Yes, well, I showered last night so I am well within the accepted practices for bathing frequency,” Julian retorts, squirming in his seat and trying to lean away from Mer who only moves with him.  Kylo snickers, then approaches the counter.  You straighten up immediately as he orders.

“Grande drip, please,” he says, fishing his wallet out of his back pocket.

“Room for cream?” you ask as you tap in his order on the register, watching him take a bill from a bifold wallet stamped with a cross.  The wallet looks old, the black leather shiny and supple and easily manipulated in Kylo’s large hands.

“No thanks,” he responds, and then he leans in a little, glancing at Julian as he drops the volume of his voice, “Does he come in every day?”

It’s an odd question and you’re not totally sure whether you should answer it, but Kylo’s face is serious and full of concern now, an abrupt change from his amused and maybe somewhat relieved expression from earlier.  You decide that it won’t do any harm and nod as you take the bill from him, tap in the amount on the register, “Pretty much.  Has for the past few months other than an odd day here and there.”

“Good,” Kylo says while you put together his change, drop it in his open hand on top of his receipt.

“I’ve never heard him say so many words at once,” you say to Kylo, looking for an explanation, and his smile this time is gentle, sympathetic.

“He’s a tough nut to crack at the best of times,” Kylo answers, and then smiles deviously as he asks, “So, are you his girlfriend?”

“No, are you his boyfriend?” you counter, plucking a cup from the stack.

“Touché,” Kylo murmurs, chuckling again, “Ex-boyfriend.”

“Still friends though, that’s nice to see,” you tell him sincerely, finding it easier to say now that you know for sure that he’s not  _ with _ Julian.  You turn to fill the cup with drip coffee, hoping that you haven’t been broadcasting your jealousy, or at least that they haven’t noticed it.  A sideways look reveals that Julian is still totally preoccupied with Mer, though you’re willing to bet that he’s noticed something off.  Unless, that is, he’s distracted by both Mer  _ and _ Kylo, which is entirely possible.

You take a cap for the cup, snap it on, and then turn again to hand it back to Kylo, watching his face as he takes it so you can try to guess what he might have seen or heard from you.  His eyes are still warm and dark, and he’s still smiling, sympathy accompanied by something that looks a lot like approval.  You smile back tentatively, almost unable to help it, sure that he genuinely likes you for whatever reason.

“Thank you,” he says, and then takes his coffee and goes to join Julian, pulling up another overstuffed armchair.  

They only stay until the early afternoon, but they talk nearly the entire time and Julian’s paper never even gets unfolded.

~

Kylo comes in with Julian every day for a week.  They generally only stay until around one o’clock at which point Kylo insists on going to get something to eat.  Unlike Julian, Kylo says, he “can’t subsist on coffee and cat hair”.  They haven’t been coming back after that, but today they have.

You perk up when you see them come in, and so does Mer, who’s been sulking every day after they leave.  She immediately jumps down from Julian’s chair and runs to greet him, meowing loudly as she stands on her back paw, tail held high, forepaws braced on his knee.  Julian bends to pick her up, cradles her in one arm while Kylo rolls his eyes and scratches Mer behind the ears.

“She would have let me have the apartment even if you hadn’t been there to tell her that I’m a good tenant,” Kylo says in a way that suggests that he and Julian have been having this disagreement repeatedly.

“Don’t be an idiot, no one would just give you an apartment,” Julian responds, rolling his eyes and settling Mer more securely into the crook of his arm.  She reaches up a paw to gently pat his cheek, and Julian doesn’t even flinch at the light touch.

“Didn’t you see the way she was looking at me?” Kylo answers, running a hand through his hair and preening as they approach the register, “I could have told her I was an alcoholic and she still would have approved my application.”

“By all means,” Julian intones dryly, “Go back and tell her that, see how quickly your application gets ‘lost’.”  

“You decided to move here?” you ask Kylo, a little surprised and unsure of how to take this news.  It’s easy to guess that he must want to be close to Julian, but why?  Because they’re such good friends?  Because they’re getting back together?  Kylo’s clearly good for Julian considering the way Julian responds to him, but it is a little disappointing to hear that you’re never going to get a shot at Julian yourself.

“The apartment next to Julian’s was open, so I put in an application.  Just got approved today,” Kylo tells you, his eyes bright with triumph as he jerks a thumb in Julian’s direction, “Now I can make sure he eats real food.”

“I eat real food,” Julian protests, glaring at Kylo briefly before turning back to you, “I’ll have my usual-”

“What?  No,” Kylo interrupts, “No coffee for you, not at this time of night.  You have enough trouble sleeping as it is-”

“I am not a child and you are not my mother, Kylo,” Julian says sharply, but Kylo ignores him and leans over the counter to speak to you.

“Two herbal teas,” he says, pretending not to notice the hiss of displeasure escaping between Julian’s half bared teeth, “You have some chamomile, right?”

You glance at Julian, who’s seething as he scowls at Kylo, and Mer, who’s still lying contentedly on her back in Julian’s hold as if nothing of note is happening.  Your eyes bounce back to Kylo who is looking at you very earnestly, silently begging you to side with him.  You consider the information Kylo gave you seconds ago, wonder how true it is.  If Julian does have trouble sleeping, caffeine may or may not contribute to that.

“I can do you one better and go upstairs and get you some lavender chamomile from my personal stash,” you say to Kylo, but you’re watching Julian.  He looks mildly offended, but also like he’s reevaluating you, like he’s mentally marking something down so he can puzzle it over later.  You wonder if he’s giving you a black mark for siding with Kylo, or if it’s something else.  It seems more likely that Julian’s upset with you for siding with Kylo, who’s only been here for a few days, over him.  You suddenly hope that he’s not misinterpreting you.

“That sounds perfect, actually,” Kylo says, grinning, “He needs a little help-”

“It’s great when you’ve been having trouble sleeping,” you say hurriedly, looking at Kylo although you’re really talking to Julian, “It’s very relaxing, I drink a cup or two with some milk and a little honey on nights when I need to go to bed, but I’m not tired.  Smells amazing too.  And tastes great.  It’s one of my favorite teas-”  You realize abruptly that you’ve been rambling and clam up for a second.  Julian is staring at you and Kylo is still grinning, looking a lot like a big black cat that caught a canary.

“I’ll just go get it,” you say, pointing at the door in the back that you ordinarily keep locked during business hours, “If you don’t mind watching the register for me?”

“Sure thing, little one,” Kylo drawls as he leans on the counter by the register.  You turn and stride to the door while you fish your keys out of your pocket and tell yourself that Kylo only looks so pleased because Julian’s stopped griping about his mother henning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! Now you have met Kylo. It was really important to me to show that Kylo and Julian still have a very strong platonic relationship. A detail that I couldn't get into with this POV is that Mer is grooming Julian's hair because it smells like Kylo since they slept in the same bed the night before. They're still very comfortable showing each other physical affection in private, and Julian actually feels more secure and relaxed when Kylo is around because he knows that Kylo has his back and will be supportive.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always so, so appreciated. I'd love to hear your favorite part from this chapter, or your impressions about the characterization of Hux or Kylo here. As always, you can find me on tumblr at magpieminx!


	4. Mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo tries to be helpful and inadvertently reveals information Julian wanted to keep hidden. Julian loses his temper, stops coming back, and then Kylo comes to get you.

A few weeks later, Kylo has moved into his apartment, though apparently not unpacked, and it’s the dog days of summer.  Kylo switches to iced drinks, leaves his leather jacket at home, and wears sleeveless shirts with his black jeans.  Julian, by contrast, continues drinking hot drinks and wearing long sleeves and gloves, shirt buttoned tightly up to his throat.  There’s burn scars peeking between his hair and the back of his collar, but he seems not to be overly self-conscious about it.  You can’t tell if that’s because he’s a good actor or if he’s just accepted that he has no way of hiding that when the weather is this hot.

You hear the thought that tells you that he could just stay home, but try not to think about why he’s still coming every day anyway.  You know what you want the reason to be, but it could be anything from Mer to restlessness, or any combination between.  Sometimes Kylo catches your eye when he comes in, and he gets this knowing smirk on his face that makes you think that maybe Julian  _ is _ coming in to see you.  Still, it seems presumptuous to assume, and you don’t want Julian to stop coming to the café since he so clearly likes it here.

You see Julian and Kylo getting up to leave, and you can tell Mer’s been rolling all over Julian because his dark pants are covered in white hair.  You stop making drinks for a moment to pull out a lint roller.  You don’t always remember to offer it to Julian and he’s always refused it when you do, but since they’re probably going out to lunch, he might want it today.  You put the drinks you’re making on hold for a second, putting the roller on the counter and saying, “Hey, Julian, do you need the lint roller before you go?”

You can see him getting ready to refuse, shaking his head and lifting a hand when Kylo interrupts him, picks up the roller and says, “Let me get that for you, I know you have a hard time reaching-”

“God damnit, Kylo, I am not a child!” Julian snarls suddenly, his voice suddenly louder than you’ve ever heard it and very, very angry, “You can fuck right on off!”  His teeth are bared, his eyes blazing, his hands balled into fists.  Kylo almost drops the lint roller, takes a step back, his eyes wide.  The entire café grinds to a stop, everyone staring.

“You’re a fucking meddler, and I do not need you supervising me every minute of the goddamn day!” Julian goes on, stepping aggressively into Kylo’s space and forcing him to back up another step, almost stumbling over a chair.

“I didn’t mean-” Kylo starts to say, but Julian cuts him off.

“I don’t fucking care what you did or didn't mean, you’ve always needed to mind your own goddamn business instead of being up my ass every second of every fucking day,” Julian snaps, and then abruptly shoves Kylo aside and strides across the café and out the door.  He never so much as even glances backwards, and for several seconds, there’s only silence as everyone stares after him.  

Kylo is the first to recover, hurriedly setting the lint roller down on the counter within your reach and telling you, “I’m sorry, he’s-  He can be kind of sensitive sometimes, you know?  I need to- need to go after him before he-”

“It’s okay,” you tell him, still somewhat stunned after Julian’s outburst, “You should go, make sure he’s okay.”  Kylo gives you a brief look full of gratitude before he jogs to the door, shifting into a full sprint as soon as he’s outside.  

It’s only after Kylo is gone that you’re looking around for Mer, spot her under a table, one of your other regulars trying to coax her out of the shadowed little space between their bag and the wall.  Relieved that Mer is fine, you go back to the drinks still waiting on the bar, hurriedly putting them together and handing them off to customers.

~

It’s been more than a month since you last saw Julian.  After his little explosion in the café, he hasn’t been back.  Kylo came in a couple of times early on, looking for him, but you could only shake your head and tell Kylo that he hadn’t been in.  Mer had grown increasingly disappointed that Julian hadn’t returned, meowing plaintively at you in the mornings and curling up in Julian’s chair in the afternoons.  It didn’t take long for people to figure out that the chair was no longer available once Mer had hissed at them.  She’d even scratched someone at one point when they tried to sit in the chair anyway.

The first couple of days of unlocking the door and not seeing Julian waiting outside had been understandable, but the days after that had only made you start to worry.  When Kylo had stopped by in the mornings, you’d become even more concerned.  Where had Julian gone?  Was he alright?  Would you ever see him again?  Or had he vanished from your life as suddenly as he’d appeared?  You hoped that he hadn’t, and every morning was a new and unique kind of disappointment when you didn’t find him standing outside the door the way he used to.

Finding Kylo waiting for you this morning had turned your stomach with fear, his desperate and hopeless expression seeming to intimate something terrible.  The second you opened the door, he’d been talking, explaining that he had a key to Julian’s apartment and had been visiting for the past couple of weeks.  Julian, apparently, hadn’t left his apartment more than three or four times during the past month, none of which had happened in the past two weeks, and was continuing to refuse to do so.

“Is there something I can do?” you had asked, “I can make a couple of drinks, package up a couple of pastries or sandwiches or something for you to take to him-”

“No, I don’t think-  That’s not going to be enough,” Kylo had said, raking rough, frustrated fingers through his hair, “I’m sorry, that’s just not-  Look, do you really want to help?  Do you care enough about him?”

Your answer has landed you on Julian’s doorstep with Mer in your arms, a notice posted in the window of the café’s door to let patrons know that it was closed for the day because of a personal emergency.  Kylo is juggling a bag of breakfast and a tray of hot drinks while he tries to unlock the door to Julian’s apartment.

“It smells a little,” he says apologetically as he shoulders the door open, “Sorry about that.  I’ll open the window.”  He passes through into the darkened space beyond and you follow, closing the door behind you and turning to lock it.

“I brought coffee, if you’re interested,” Kylo calls down the short hallway before passing into a living area.  He puts the bag and the drinks down on a coffee table, picks up an empty bottle of scotch, and a small, round container that looks a lot like some kind of cream.  He pauses to put up some blinds and you blink at the sudden addition of light while you try to get used to the “smell”.  

It’s mostly alcohol, but there’s the lingering scent of something fresh and also the ripe, musky odor of an unwashed body.  It’s not nearly as bad as you thought it was going to be, but then you’re distracted because Mer is squirming in your arms.  You put her down and she’s off like a shot down the short hallway, barely pausing before turning into the doorway on the left-hand side, mewing loudly in greeting.  You glance back at Kylo, but he’s disappeared, presumably into the kitchen that must exist somewhere.

“Kylo, you can’t just catnap people’s pets,” Julian’s voice grouses as you approach the doorway Mer went into.  You step into the frame yourself, one hand lifted to knock on the wood and announce your presence, but you forget when you see Julian and Mer.  Julian is propped up on an elbow in a mess of a bed, covers pulled up and gathered around his hips, faded hair a rumpled mess.  Mer has jumped up onto the mattress and is purring and rubbing her face against his stubbled chin while he strokes her back.  Despite the sweetness of this picture, all you can do is stare as you get a better idea of the extent of the damage done to Julian’s body.

He’s wearing a ribbed singlet that exposes much of his shoulders and arms and some of his chest beneath the collarbone.  The burns on his hands do, as you suspected, stretch all the way up to his shoulders and his back.  The scar tissue is mottled and uneven, some of it pale and some of it dark, some of it smooth and shiny, some of it rough and textured.  His arms are an ugly patchwork of pain and survival, and that alone is enough to make you want to cry.  What makes it worse are the thick white and pink and angry red lines rising from under the cotton fabric of his top, many of them ending around his collarbones though some end earlier and some go further.  There’s too many of them not to have been deliberate, though who inflicted them and how isn’t something you could guess at.

The moment is lost when Julian looks up at you, his eyes going wide as he reflexively jerks the bedclothes up over himself, upsetting Mer who protests the sudden movement loudly when it topples her.  You realize that at some point the hand you were going to use to knock ended up over your mouth, and you hurriedly let it drop.  It takes you too long to school your expression into something less horrified and Julian has already looked away by the time you do.

“I-” you start to say, but then the words come spilling out like water and you can’t seem to stop them, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know-  Kylo asked me if I could-  if I could bring Mer because he thought that she could help you feel better and I thought-  I thought that since you and she seem to get along so well and she’s been missing you so much that-”

Julian looks up when you mention that, and you falter for a moment before you nod at Mer who’s patting Julian with a paw for attention, “She’s been sitting in your chair every day and hissing at people who try to sit there.”

“Has she really?” he says after a long pause, looking down at Mer fondly, a smile curving his lips as he scritches her behind one ear.

“She scratched someone last week,” you confirm, and somehow this even provokes a quiet little laugh from Julian.  You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, relieved for these little signs that maybe things aren’t totally unsalvageable.

“I brought some coffee and breakfast sandwiches,” you say, a smile of your own quirking one side of your mouth, “I think Kylo is heating them up in the microwave.”

“You should make sure he doesn’t burn them while I get dressed,” Julian says carefully, still looking down at Mer.

“Microwave burn is the worst,” you say by way of agreement before turning to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a day or so late! I usually upload chapters after I get home from class, but that wasn't the case this week.
> 
> It feels like this story has been going so fast! There are only two more chapters before it'll be complete. Kudos and comments are always appreciated, and I'd love to know what you enjoyed most about this chapter (or any questions you might have). As always, you can find me at magpieminx on tumblr.


	5. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You spend more time with Julian.

The next evening finds you on Julian’s doorstep again, though this time you knock instead of having Kylo let you in.  You have a bag of Thai takeout in one hand and a small box with a few of the shortbread cat cookies Julian sometimes gets with his coffee and one chocolat au pain.  There’s also a few lavender chamomile tea bags in the box, the last of your personal stash until your next order comes in.

You shift on your feet, wondering if maybe Julian won’t open the door, if you won’t get Mer back tonight.  You’ve been looking for her reflexively during the day, and you missed her when you went to bed last night.  If Julian needs her for another day or so, then you’re not averse to letting her stay with him, but you would like to have your cat back so that you don’t have to answer questions about her every five minutes.  

There’s also the question of what you’re going to do with all this Thai food if Julian doesn’t answer the door, though you guess you could just go next door and ask if Kylo will help take some of it off your hands.  He doesn’t seem like the type of person to turn down food when it’s offered, especially not given the way he’s built.

But the door opens and Julian is standing there with Mer cradled in his arms.  She twists and reaches for you with her forepaws, meowing loudly and insistently, and you can’t help a smile.  Without thinking, you step closer to kiss her, realizing too late that you’re standing almost nose to nose with Julian.  His cheeks are dusted with pink now as he looks away, and you’re sure that yours are too, but then Mer butts hers head against your face and gets a paw in your mouth.  You take half a step back, sputtering, and then Julian laughs.

“I’m sorry, please, come in,” he says, sounding more normal than you’ve ever heard, freer, happier even.  His smile is the kind of helplessly genuine expression that you’ve only ever daydreamed about seeing on his face, and for a second you’re too enchanted to register that he’s stepped back to allow you entry to his apartment.

“I brought dinner,” you say as you step past him, pausing as you turn back to look at him, “I didn’t know if Kylo was going to be here so I-”

“I think Kylo already ate, he went to the gym about twenty minutes ago,” Julian says, his body language going from free to awkward in a heartbeat.  He bends to put Mer down, and she instantly starts winding around your ankles, meowing to get your attention again.

“Yes,” you say, looking down at Mer, “I hear you.  In case you haven’t noticed, cat, my hands are a little-”  You don’t get a chance to finish your sentence before Julian reaches out and gently pulls the bag of food from your hand.

“Here, let me take that,” he says as you notice that he’s wearing a long-sleeved, high-collared shirt, but no gloves, “If you give me a few minutes, I can plate it and-”  He stops, and suddenly it’s awkward again and you don’t know what to say.  You wonder if Kylo did this on purpose to try and make you and Julian have dinner together, if this is related to all those smug, knowing smiles you’ve seen him wearing.

You’re mortified when your stomach answers for you by growling loudly.  Julian suddenly snorts as he steps past you, saying, “The kitchen is this way.  When did you last eat?”

“This morning, lunchtime was busy today,” you say, deciding not to tell him that you already know where the kitchen is.  Mer darts past you to trail after Julian, her tail held high, while you take in the apartment.  It wasn’t particularly messy yesterday, but it had seemed cluttered and unorganized.  Now every surface is bare and gleaming and the entire place smells like fresh laundry.  The carpet is covered with tracks, indicating it’s been vacuumed recently.  Overall, the place is almost absurdly clean and you suddenly feel guilty for leaving your shoes on.  

“Should I take my shoes off?” you ask Julian as you enter the kitchen, setting the box of pastries down on the counter, “Everything looks so clean-”

“You don’t have to, but you can if you’d like,” he says politely as he unties the takeout bag and swiftly unloads the contents.  You mull it over briefly before stepping out of your shoes and running them back to the front door.  By the time you come back, Julian has turned the rice, the wontons, and the pad thai out into serving bowls and is preparing to pour the curry into its own bowl too.  

“I could put those on the table,” you say though you inadvertently turn the suggestion into a question when your voice lilts up at the end.  Julian pauses, and then he hands you the bowls with the rice and the wontons.  You take them from him, and step out to put them down on the dining table, then return for the pad thai and the curry while he ladles soup into two smaller bowls.

A few more minutes and the table is set and you sit down with Julian.  The two of you pause awkwardly, glancing at each other, and then you shrug and start to serve yourself.  Julian reaches for another dish, but then you reach for a wonton and Julian’s fingers close over yours and you both recoil.

You feel yourself flush in embarrassment and make a mental note to tell Kylo to stop matchmaking the next time you see him.  

~

Somehow, you establish a new routine with Julian.  He starts coming to the café everyday again, but after you close on Saturdays you bring Mer to his apartment to stay with him overnight.  Often, he’ll have food ready when you get there, mostly takeout or delivery, sometimes he actually cooks.  He’s an excellent cook, you find out, though you can never tell if your nights in with him are actually dates or not.  It feels like a date, even if the two of you don’t talk much.  The silences in his apartment are pleasant, if sometimes awkward.

Tonight, it’s more awkward than usual.  It was unseasonably warm for an autumn day, and Julian has opted for a ribbed cotton singlet like the one he was wearing the first time you brought Mer.  It’s difficult not to stare, and you keep catching him watching you, his expression cautious and wary.  It’s not until after dinner when the two of you have migrated to the couch and turned on some music for background noise that you work up the courage to ask what’s been on your mind all night.

“You don’t have to answer, but can I ask…  What happened?”  Your question comes out sounding timid, and your eyes flicker back and forth between his arms and hands and his face.  He doesn’t answer you right away, just stares into the space ahead of him, and you wonder if it’s too soon to ask.  It seemed almost like he  _ wanted _ you to ask since he hadn’t worn a long-sleeved shirt today, or maybe it was because he thought you  _ wouldn’t _ ask.  

“I was in the military,” he says suddenly, looking down at his hands in his lap.  He flexes his hands, curling his fingers into fists and then turning them over, repeating the action.  The movement is smooth, and he doesn’t appear to have lost any flexibility, though you imagine he must have worked at that based on what little you know about severe burns.

“I was a sniper,” he continues quietly, “And the mission went wrong.  There was an explosion.  I got caught in it.”  His hands curl into fists, but he’s not looking at his hands anymore.  There’s a hollowness to his eyes that tells you that he’s re-living some part of the experience.  It’s not everything, an explosion doesn’t explain the scars criss-crossing his chest that you can see under the thin white fabric, but it’s still more than you thought he would tell you.

Impulsively, you shift closer to him, careful to move slowly so that you don’t startle him or crush Mer between your thigh and his.  The move has the effect you wanted, drawing him out of his near-trance so that he blinks at you, his expression going wary again.  Gently, you reach out and brush your fingers over his scarred knuckles, then wait for him to give you some kind of cue to stop.  When he doesn’t, you take his hand in yours, unfolding it and then lifting it to your lips so you can kiss it.

“Thank you for your service,” you murmur just before embarrassment shoots through you at doing something so cheesy.  Julian pulls his hand free of yours, and you glance at his face only to find that he’s turned his head away from you.  You’re about to get up and excuse yourself for the night when you see the tremor in his shoulders, the tension with which he’s holding himself, and suddenly you realize why he’s turned away from you.

He’s gotten emotional and he doesn’t want you to see it.  Instinct tells you that he’s probably on the verge of tears rather than furious, and suddenly you feel guilty.  He inhales and the sound of it is shaky and choked, and you’re not sure whether offering him a hug would make it better or worse.  You decide to try, pick Mer up and deposit her on his lap as she lets out a sleepy mew of protest, then wrap your arms around Julian, nestling your cheek against the thick, rough skin of his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” you mumble, but then you feel Julian’s hand covering yours, gripping your fingers.  His hands are shaking, and you squeeze his fingers in return as best you can.  Suddenly he turns, his arms snaking around your waist as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.  His tears are hot on your skin, his breathing ragged as you adjust your hold on him, reach up to stroke his hair with one hand.

He clings to you like that for over half an hour, and then he pulls away, gently disengaging and putting Mer onto the couch cushion.  He walks away, and you stand up, uncertain whether it’s time for you to leave or not, but then he comes back with a box of tissues, hands it to you without meeting your eyes like he’s ashamed.

“I apologize,” he says, sounding much too formal, “I didn’t expect to get emotional.”  You pluck a tissue from the proffered box, trying not to be upset that he’s trying to push you away now that he’s regained his self-control.

“I’m not sorry I asked,” you say as you wipe your neck, and he startles, looking at you with incomprehension written all over his face.  You give him a wry smile.  “I’m sorry that I brought up bad feelings, but I’m not sorry for asking what happened, or for being there for you when you needed me.”

Julian just stares at you for a moment, and then his expression shifts back to shame as he looks away and says, “You’re better than I deserve.”

You try to find something to say for a moment, fail, try again, fail again.  You want to say that you’re not better than he deserves, that you think he’s been dealt more than his fair share of the bad in life, but your opinion on the matter won’t change what he thinks or how he feels.  Finally, you ask, “Even if I am, will you take me anyway?”

He looks at you for a long moment, and then you know that you’ve pushed him too far because he turns and retreats to his bedroom.  You sigh, make a mental note to apologize tomorrow when you pick Mer up, and then take your leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter to go! I'm a little sad this story is ending because I spent over a year adding to it, piece by piece. I may continue it in some kind of sequel, but I'm reluctant to promise anything.
> 
> That said, the final chapter will be uploaded for Valentine's Day, so you can think of it as my gift to y'all.
> 
> As always, you can find me on tumblr at magpieminx and kudos and comments are always so, so appreciated. I'd love to hear your favorite thing from the chapter.


	6. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's family and there's family.

You don’t really quite understand when Julian became your boyfriend.  Technically, he isn’t because the two of you have never discussed your relationship.  He’s not much of a feelings person, although you can tell he has as many strong feelings as he has bad memories, and you try not to push him into discussions when he’s not ready to confront things.  That still doesn’t change the fact that you spend more time with him in the café and in his apartment than you do on the phone with your own family.  Or that a good portion of that time is spent eating and sitting on his couch together.  

It’s not like you sleep in his bed.  He hasn’t offered that and you haven’t asked, but there’s something about sitting with him and listening to music or watching a movie or reading that feels like more than just friendship.  When the two of you are sitting together, Mer stretched out between you, it feels almost like you’re already married.  You’re not sure how you feel about skipping traditional dating, but you’re not upset that he doesn’t take you out.  His apartment is becoming so familiar that it almost feels like home to you.  

You don’t know if it was really home enough for you to just bring Julian a kitten, but you were banking on how much Julian liked cats, and how often it seemed like one night a week with Mer just wasn’t enough.  Julian needed more than a borrowed cat and an almost-girlfriend, so you brought him a cat of his own.

You wish you could say that that had gone smoothly, but it hadn’t.  Julian hadn’t even said hello, just taken one look at the kitten, looked like he’d seen a ghost, and then shut the door in your face.  You’d had to knock four more times before he had opened the door again, and then he’d still looked at the kitten like it was something straight out of his personal hell sent to haunt him.

You hadn’t stayed long because Julian didn’t seem like he wanted company, but you’d made a deal with him.  He would keep Mer and the kitten for one night, and then when you came to pick Mer up, he’d decide whether or not he wanted to keep the kitten.

Judging by the looks of things tonight, you suspect that Julian is very much keeping the kitten.  It’s curled up in his lap and Julian can’t seem to look away from it for longer than a few seconds.  Not even Mer can hold his attention for more than that, which is probably a first.

“Can you tell me what happened yesterday?” you ask, gently nudging Julian’s shoulder with your own, stroking Mer with your fingertips.

“I’m sorry, I know that was rude,” Julian says automatically, but you’re not about to let him off the hook that easily.

“I’m more interested in knowing  _ why _ you shut the door in my face,” you tell him, “If you’re willing to tell me.”

There’s a long silence that could signify that Julian doesn’t want to talk about it or that he’s marshalling his thoughts or his courage.  It means more to you than you think he knows that he doesn’t just walk away from you when he doesn’t want to discuss something anymore.  That was always discouraging and frustrating before, having him just retreat from you.  Now, he stays even if he has no intention of responding.  

The silence drags on long enough that you lean on him a little and accept that he’s probably not going to answer, but he sighs and says, “The mission went wrong, and I wasn’t the only one who paid for it.”

“Oh,” is all you say for a moment, trying to find something to say, but still trying to connect that to the kitten curled contentedly in his lap.

“I know that’s not very clear,” he admits, “Three sniper teams went on that mission.  One of them was Kylo and I, and another was my older brother and my cousin.”

You mull that over, and then ask quietly, “Did they get caught in the explosion too?”

“No,” Julian answers without inflection, “They died while trying to avoid capture.”

You try to imagine the magnitude of that kind of loss piled on top of the massive amounts of pain Julian must have endured in his recovery, find that you draw a blank.  It’s too big to comprehend, and the flatness with which he said it tells you that he still feels that grief very deeply.

“Is that how Kylo got his scar?” you inquire, trying to fit the pieces together.

“Yes,” Julian replies briefly, “He didn’t get caught in the explosion like I did, but he was found by enemy combatants when he was trying to get back to me.  He was lucky, there was only one.”

For a minute, you forget that you were asking about why he had such a strong reaction to the kitten, but then he breaks into your thoughts by saying, “My cousin, Bren… His eye color was very similar to this one’s.”  He gently strokes the kitten with a bare finger, drawing it down along the kitten’s spine.

“Oh,” you gasp, his reaction suddenly making sense, “I’m sorry-  I can take the kitten and get you another or-”

“No, I want to keep him.”  Julian’s voice is so steady that it almost doesn’t sound like him.  Julian is always cautious or deliberate, measured and wary, and very rarely, genuinely happy.  This is none of those things, it’s a reassuring, settled statement, like he’s stating a law of nature.  

“My brother, Jim, his eyes were green,” he says matter-of-factly, “Like Mer’s.”

~

You’re still yawning by the time you make it to the cafe’s front door to unlock it.  Mer is trailing your feels and mewing insistently, knowing that Julian is outside, waiting to come in.  You push the door open and shiver as the early winter air rushes in through the frame around Julian’s body as he steps inside.  You push the key into the slot and twist it quickly, yanking the key out and stepping away to let the door close.  You end up walking right into Julian, not realizing that he’s been hovering behind you, and he grunts at the impact, gloved hand cupping your elbows as he rocks back onto his heels.

“I’m sorry, I thought-  I woke up late this morning, but I put your coffee and the paper on the counter,” you say, and then have to cover your mouth with the back of your hand as you yawn again.  Julian lingering like this is unusual, and then you’re blinking up at him, studying his face, trying to figure out why.  His eyes are soft, the corners of his mouth subtly lifted, like he’s almost smiling.  You don’t quite understand why he’s looking at you like this now, with that expression, one he usually reserves for evenings when you’re half-asleep on his couch with Mer and Bren curled up in his lap and next to you, leaning against his side, your head on his shoulder.

Suddenly, he bends and his lips brush lightly over yours in one of those fleeting, feather-light kisses that he sometimes gives you and you’re standing on tip-toe, reaching for him and hoping he’ll give you another.  Sometimes he does and sometimes he doesn’t, but today he sighs and kisses you again.  Warmth rises from your stomach and curls in your chest, gently radiating outward as you press your keyring between your fingers.  

“Good morning,” Julian murmurs softly against your mouth, still lingering.  Unusual it might be, but you’re not complaining as you sigh and smile.

“Good morning,” you respond, and then there’s a mew and the front of Julian’s coat is shifting and then Bren’s nose, ears, and head pop out of the collar of his coat and you can’t help laughing.

“Good morning to you too,” you tell the golden kitten, reaching up to scritch him behind his little ears, “I see daddy brought you to play with Mer, today.”  As if on cue, or maybe because she heard her name, Mer meows loudly and Julian steps back to lean down to pick her up.  She and Bren are quickly distracted sniffing each other and Julian carries them both to his favorite chair.  He situates both cats on his lap before taking his coffee and paper down from the counter.  You busy yourself behind the counter as he opens the paper and starts to read.

“Do you know if Kylo is coming by today?” you ask, though it’s a Saturday and Kylo nearly always comes by on Saturday mornings to get an iced black tea before going to the gym, regardless of the weather.  You spare a glance outside at the hazy, overcast sky that seems to be threatening snow and then shiver.

“I don’t know why he can’t just drink his tea hot,” Julian responds without looking up from his paper, “It’s thirty degrees out there and the high today is supposed to thirty-four, but I don’t believe it’ll get that high.”

“Are the roads icy?” you ask, opening the register drawer and beginning to count your bills and check your change.  Kylo isn’t afraid of an icy road, but the information is valuable for you too, and you might decide not to go over to Julian’s apartment tonight after you close the café if the road conditions are too bad.  It’s not safe for him or for you, and you don’t want him coming after you if something does happen, which he undoubtedly would.  

“About that,” Julian says, his paper rustling as he lowers it and looks over at you.  You watch him curiously, wondering where he’s going with this, and then he says, “Would you… Would you mind if I stayed?”

You’re trying not to stare at him, and the only reason you succeed is because you drop a few quarters back into the register’s drawer and the sound startles you.  You scoop two quarters out of the wrong compartments and drop them back into the correct one as you try to moderate your shock.  Julian has occasionally let you stay overnight at his place, but not often since he doesn’t want you sleeping with him in his bed and feels bad when you sleep on the couch.  He’s never asked if he could stay at your place, and you could count on one hand the number of times he’s been up into your apartment over the café.  You know he doesn’t like unfamiliar places, they make him hypervigilant and then it can still sometimes take him hours to calm down when he gets home.

“If you want to, of course,” you say, though the first part comes out awkwardly, “I do have a pull-out couch and it’s pretty comfortable so-”

“That won’t be necessary,” Julian says, though he’s no longer looking at you, and then he looks up again when you don’t respond right away and turns slightly pink as he says, “I thought that maybe we could share the bed?”  

You don’t think he meant to phrase that as a question anymore than you meant to blush when he said that, but a question it was and your face is hot.  You have to wonder if he’s not pushing himself too hard and too far, staying in an unfamiliar place and sleeping by your side too, if that’s even what he means, if he’s not implying-

Your face gets even hotter and you can’t look at him when you ask, “Did you bring an overnight bag?  I mean, I have a couple of sweatshirts that might fit you and some sweatpants or shorts-”

“I have a bag in my car,” he says, though the words sound a little more rushed than his usual cadence, “With all the necessities.”  You chance a glance at him, see that he’s still pink and still not looking at you, and then suddenly you remember the kisses and wonder what’s happened to make him more openly affectionate and want to spend the night with you, in your bed.

“I don’t want to inconvenience you,” he says, and you know he’s trying to give you a chance to back out, mistaking your thinking for hesitation.

“You’re not!” you say, the two words coming out in a rush, “I just-  You know-  We-  We’ve never done this- that- before and-”  You stop yourself, your face feeling like it’s been set on fire.  “I mean sleeping together not… not  _ sleeping _ together.”

“My god, and people think we’re adults,” Julian mutters in a tone that you don’t think you were meant to hear, and when you look over at him, his ears are as flushed as his cheeks, his gloved hand covering his mouth.  Mer lifts her head from grooming Bren, mews at Julian because he must have stopped petting her, which then causes Bren to squirm free and sit up and pat at Julian’s forearm as if to ask why he’s doing weird things with his hands instead of petting Mer.

“I mean we’re more adults then the cats?” you offer, and Julian suddenly laughs from behind his hand and shakes his head.

“I think we’re supposed to aim higher than cats,” he says, but then you’re both turning towards the opening door and Kylo is rushing through it.

“It’s fucking  _ cold _ ,” he says, shaking himself like a dog, as if he can shake off the cold air like water as he comes up to the counter.  He’s in long sweatpants and a hoodie that looks like it’s been washed one too many times and he’s fishing in his pockets for his wallet.

“Black iced tea, one honey, the usual,” he says, but then he looks at your face and freezes, squinting at you from under his messy waves of black hair.  You know he’s taking in the blush on your face, and then abruptly he turns and looks at Julian, scrutinizing him.  Julian lifts his paper, trying to hide behind it, but isn’t fast enough and suddenly Kylo smirks.

“Do you know,” he says, turning to you, “How good he is with his tongue-”

“ _ Kylo _ !” Julian barks, putting down the paper and glaring at his former spotter, “If you value your life,  _ you will not finish that sentence _ .”

“I think I can just… find out,” you manage to gasp before, “One black iced tea, coming right up.”  You turn away and pretend like nothing unusual is happening, Kylo wasn’t just about to tell you something that you don’t know if you’re ready to be told before you can just find out for yourself, but the thoughts aren’t usually ones you let yourself entertain this early.  Your face is hot and you’re still a little tired, but you _cannot_ let your mind wander in that direction-

“I hate you,” you hear Julian say as Kylo drops himself into his customary chair and laughs.

“What was that, Red?  Thanks for pulling out the stick up your ass a little bit?”

“I do not-”

“Hello, Bren, baby, come here and see Uncle Kylo, hmm?”  Kylo’s voice is soft, and when you look up from brewing his honeyed tea, you see that he’s holding Bren and cooing at him.  Julian looks almost disgruntled, and like he wants to take his kitten back from Kylo, but Mer is rubbing her face along his hand and purring and kneading his thigh, and Julian opts to pet her instead.

You shake Kylo’s tea with ice, fill his cup, and then put it out on the counter.  Julian takes the tea, passes it to Kylo, and suddenly you remember the first time Julian wandered into your little café.  He was cold then, aloof, always so alone, a strange, rigid man that happened to like your cat.  He’s changed over the past year or so, and you have to wonder how he’s changed you.  

You lean on the counter for a minute since your other Saturday morning regulars haven’t made it in yet, watching Mer, Julian, Bren, and Kylo interact, wondering at how much they feel like family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! I hope that you all have enjoyed this final chapter and the story as a whole. I promise that I'll be going through and answering comments sometime soon, but thank you all so so much for the positive feedback on this story! I believe I mentioned this before, but I really wrote this over the past year or so just for myself and didn't originally intend to post it. I'm really glad I did, and it's possible that we may see more of this Julian in the future! 
> 
> Thank you all again for reading! (Also comments are still extremely appreciated here on the final chapter!)


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